


A Wild Gull Chase

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [33]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: A flock of seagulls help the agents while they await a contact.





	

For three days, Napoleon and Illya had been waiting for their contact to put in an appearance. They hadn't been given a specific date or time, only being told the person's name and the fact he would be there sometime over the next week. The pair had taken a room in beachside guest house, close to the area of the rendezvous, and were taking turns to sleep. Illya woke on the morning of the third day to find Napoleon in his usual spot by the window.

"I take it there have been no developments," he mumbled, as he climbed out of bed.

"Not unless you count the arrival of a huge flock of seagulls."

Illya disappeared into the bathroom to shower and dress, and when he returned, Napoleon was watching the gulls through binoculars.

"I know you're bored, but surely seagulls aren't that interesting."

"They seem to be concentrating on one small part of the beach," Solo told him. "It's weird."

"It is probably just carrion," Illya replied. "A seal or something, washed up onto the shore."

"You're probably right," agreed Napoleon. "Although . . ."

"Although, what?" Illya prompted after several seconds.

Napoleon handed the binoculars to his partner.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said. "But does that look like a human figure to you?"

Illya looked to where the largest amount of seagulls was concentrated and had to agree with Napoleon. Whatever the gulls were picking at, it definitely looked more like a man than a seal.

Within minutes the two agents were running down the beach, fending of seagulls.

"I feel like Tippi Hedren," Napoleon called out, as he flapped at them.

"Who?"

"You know, from that movie last year. The Birds."

"I didn't see it," Illya yelled back, struggling to be heard over the noise of the birds. "And if it is anything like this, I don't intend too."

As they got closer to the figure, it became more and more obvious that is was, indeed, a man. At least, it used to be. From the looks of things, he'd been in the water a couple of days, and the bullet-hole in his skull suggested that he hadn't drowned.

"You'd better see if there is any ID," Napoleon ordered, trying not to grimace at what the gulls had left of the guy's face.

"Why me?" Illya asked. "Are you about to pull rank on me again?"

"It does have its privileges."

Cursing in his native tongue, Illya searched the pockets of the corpse, and found a soggy wallet. Opening it carefully, he was rewarded with a driver's licence. It bore the name 'Henry Butterman'.

"Our contact," Illya informed his partner. "At least this means we can get back to New York."

"Butterman apparently had information pertaining to at least three North American satrapies," Napoleon said, rubbing his face. "I really don't want to break this news to Waverly. I don't suppose you would call him, Tovarisch."

"Ah, my friend," Illya replied. "That is where not having the higher rank has the advantage. This is a job for the senior agent."


End file.
